


Catharsis

by ancslove



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, The Iliad - Homer
Genre: Angry Sex, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Except for his ghost, Grief/Mourning, Homeric Epithets, M/M, is Sir Not Appearing in This Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-04 00:17:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10262384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancslove/pseuds/ancslove
Summary: Odysseus confronts Achilles after the events of the Iliad.  New and old pain is explored as they grapple with Patroclus' death, Priam's surprise visit, and each other.  Grief, anger, and sex beside the wine-dark sea.





	

“Agamemnon is displeased.”

Achilles didn’t acknowledge the voice that intruded on his solitude. He knew that if he wanted a true guarantee of privacy, he should have stayed in his tent, where none would dare disturb his domain. _(“King Priam dared,” a voice that sounded like Patroclus whispered in his head._ ) But the sea was his home and the shore his comfort, during the long years away from Phthia. His mother’s realm would always welcome him, even now, when the world of men seemed to bar him from their company. Still, it had been worth it, hadn’t it? Patroclus’ blood, his father’s name and title, his own shadowed legacy had all demanded revenge. Recompense. And so Achilles had acted with his signature swiftness, claiming his repayment from the one who had so dared to steal the one Achilles valued the most.

“I’m surprised you couldn’t hear his curses throughout the camp.”

Stubbornly, Achilles kept his gaze on the horizon. The waves, wine-dark and peaceful this time of night, beat a steadfast, comforting rhythm on the shore. He relaxed consciously, hearing his mother’s lullaby burbling beneath every watery crash. Calmed, as always, by the beat of the sea, Achilles held his tongue. Let Odysseus come to him. The man of many wiles did not disappoint, and soon a strong hand landed on his shoulder.

“Ever since Apollo’s priest appeared begging for his daughter, you’ve been skirting dangerously close to treason. Challenging the High King’s rule, withdrawing from battle, throwing your divine support to the Trojans. And now, this secret truce, when we should be pressing our advantage. Be careful, Achilles. The men don’t know what to think, and I don’t need to tell you that a confused army can be volatile.”

“Treason?” That injustice broke Achilles’ silence. “I swore no allegiance to Mycenae. The army will follow their masters, and should welcome the respite from death and suffering. You fear the opinions of the kings, not the men, but I am done placating them.” _(“When have you ever placated the Achaean kings?” wondered the Patroclus-voice.)_

“The kings are on your side, for now; but they don’t understand your current path. Why allow the Trojans a truce to recover from their loss? Surely you don’t think that their funeral preparations won’t also involve establishing who takes Hector’s place? Ajax and Diomedes believe we could land the death blow now. Deny them the chance to prepare a new defender, and strike while they still reel.”

 

Achilles’ mouth tightened. He knew the truce was a strategic mistake, and no answer he could give would satisfy the other leaders. Father Zeus had demanded and he had obeyed, but that command only encompassed returning Hector’s body. The truce had been his idea, and even now he could not explain the impulse. A belated honor toward the worthiest foe he would ever face? A gesture of nobility and mercy that Patroclus would have appreciated, even championed? A tacit recompense for gross and unprecedented misconduct on his part, that stained his soul with shame, now that his rage had begun to abate? Giving a sharp shake of his head, he cut off that train of thought. Even beyond the will of the gods, Patroclus’ kindness, his father’s love, and his own honor had demanded it. And so it was done.

But the resourceful and suspicious Odysseus still awaited his answer.

“While she still stands, Priam is still Troy’s king. What’s more, last night, he was a supplicant-guest under my protection. Agamemnon may not know how to respond to a grieving old father, but that’s his failing. King Priam deserved respect, and he asked permission to honor his eldest son properly. There is nothing foolhardy in heeding such a request.”

Odysseus’ eyes gleamed shrewdly, slicing straight through the lie. “You are never usually less than honest, especially about your own motives. Still, I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Do I need a reason to visit a friend? I came to see how you were doing.”

Achilles let out an undignified snort, and turned back to the waves.

“And I came to see if you had decided to finally make good on your previous threat. Are you quitting this war, now that both Patroclus and Hector are no more?”

Achilles shook his head again. Patroclus had given his life for this war, and Achilles would soon join him. There was no escaping that fate now, his doom sealed with Hector’s. He welcomed it. Would Patroclus wait for him, in Hades?

“You can tell the others that we stay until we see this venture through.”

“They will be gratified to hear it.”

“Patroclus would want that.”

The hand was back on his shoulder, gently stroking. Achilles looked over into softened hazel eyes. “He wouldn’t want you to mourn like this forever. He would want you to take care of yourself.”

Achilles had heard that before. From his mother, for one. From Briseis and Automedon. He himself had spoken similar platitudes to last night’s desolate supplicant. Life went on, even though the living may dislike the thought, and human needs eventually demanded their rightful attention. Last night, confronted with Patroclus’ compassion and Priam’s courage, he had even believed it. Alone once more, the advice was harder to follow.

“I know you loved him. But please remember that you have other friends. Let us be here for you. I know we can’t take his place, but –“ Odysseus visibly swallowed his words as Achilles swung on him.

Rage stirred beneath Achilles’ breast. “What friends? If you had stood beside me when Agamemnon decided to play the Mighty King, Patroclus would be alive right now! Instead, you stood and watched as he insulted the accomplishments of me and my men, and thought yourselves relieved that he didn’t choose to turn on you.”

“We beseeched you both to see reason and turn away from your quarrel before it was too late. You put your pride over the lives of your comrades and success of our operation. You may have been able to watch as we were mowed down under Hector’s sword, but Patroclus wasn’t.”

“Nestor beseeched us. And even he would have still had me bow to Agamemnon’s unearned rank. The rest of you never said a word. He listens to you. Zeus knows he accords you more respect than he has ever shown me. If you, and Diomedes, and Ajax had spoken out when he threatened your interests as well as mine, none of this would have happened! You chose your commitment to him over your friendship with me, when you knew he was in the wrong.”

He’d thought he was over this resentment. Patroclus’ death had since shown him true pain, and all other emotion had been swept away by the grief and fury that had seized him the moment young Antilochus had broken the news. But now, betrayal and hurt welled up as sharp as they had that day that Agamemnon had publicly spat in his face and humiliated him in front of the entire army, as the council stood silently by. He remembered storming out, as the friends he’d fought and drunk and broken bread beside for nine years, had refused to meet his eyes. Perhaps that had been the worst cut, more than Agamemnon’s smirking high-handedness or Briseis’ cries. Pacing the shoreline in quick, jagged strides, Achilles tried to reach for the inner peace he’d achieved before.

“I’m sorry.”       

Brought up short, Achilles spun around to meet Odysseus’ eyes.


End file.
